I’ve been “homeless” three times in my life;  two times by “choice,”, one time not.   The times I voluntarily did it were interesting social experiments (to me).  Call it curiousity, or fodder for story-writing, or just a general apoplexy.

The first time was a transition period in my life – back from 8 years overseas, a relatively “unsuccessful” first year in the US, and I just want to drift for awhile, and I did.  Southern California, a couple different locations, Vegas for awhile (which resulted in my completing my first novel, at least).

The “Southern California Experment” was interesting.  I focused at first on the West side of Los Angeles, which has a huge homeless community.  I slept on the beach sometimes, in my car sometimes, in (what used to be called) flop-house hotels.  I immersed myself in the drifter community, and discovered a great many things – there are parallels in any culture – hierarchies – good people and bad, leaders and followers.

I held conversations with both members of the population, and those that distained them, or had to deal with them, like the LAPD.

Within the community, you quickly learn the hierarchy, and one is able to glean knowledge from them, there’s a kind of underground communications network – about where to get benefits, food, shelter, clothes, and so on.  People share more than in “middle class white America” for sure – both their possessions, and their knowledge.   You develop an internal calendar and GPS system – what food places have cheap specials, on what days, what dumpsters are especially attractive – yes, there is an entire culture living “free” off of the refuse of others – “freeganism.”

I grew particularly fond of a bagel place off Sepulveda in West L.A.  – they tossed good food willy-nilly all day long.

My favored parking spot for sleeping in the car was a Home Depot near Venice, CA., which was open 24/7, the parking lot was brightly lit and frequently patroled.  One could feel relatively safe there, unlike the beach, where you slept at your own risk of bodily harm and theft.

After a month or so of that, it was off to Las Vegas, to a very seedy motel, that provided a lot of dope for my stories.  This place had a “linen” deposit that was more than the nightly cost of a room.

My “second adventure” was a couple year ago, when I hopped on Greyhound for six weeks, and challenged myself to live for less than $10 a day.  Turns out, I got it down to less than $4 a day.

Again, the strangest observation was there was even a “community” on the bus – good and bad people, followers and leaders.  You could sleep on the buses overnight, so that took care of housing.   You can’t afford (on my budget) to eat in bus stations, but there were usually food carts nearby, and the buses frequently make their rest stops at fast food joints, so the whole $1 menu thing kicks in.

A funny change from the days I used to take the bus home from college.  Back in the those days, people would rush off the buses to smoke or use a washroom; today there is a mad rush to commandeer electrical sockets to charge your phones.

I’m thinking about this today because I am reading the “occupy” news stories, and because the “homeless’ population is so prevalent (but so well taken care of) here in Portland.  Like Santa Monica, there are services for whatever one desires in Portland- free food, free medical, clothes, laundry, housing.

I’m not sure what percentage of the population in the US is “homeless” these days – compared to the 1930′s, say.  But it has to be higher than anyone actually knows or wants to acknowledge.

It’s getting scary out there folks.  Take care of yourselves, and your neighbors.